On the Moon
by JBLovesSharks
Summary: SCRAPPED Cameron's addicted to crystal meth. How will this effect her marriage, job, and personal life? Incredibly angsty. Chameron, Huddy.


**Title:** On the Moon

**Pairing:** Chameron, Huddy

**Summary:** Cameron's addicted to crystal meth. How will this effect her marriage, job, and personal life? Incredibly angsty. Chameron, Huddy.

**Rating:** M

**Disclaimer:** I don't own the characters or the concept of the show.

"God fucking damnit! Allison!" Robert Chase tossed his briefcase and key's onto the floor as the door clicked shut behind him. It was nearing midnight and he'd just gotten off a twenty hour shift in the surgery department of Princeton Plainsboro Teaching Hospital. He needed to sleep. He didn't need to deal with _this_ again.

"Come here, shhh..." Once he shrugged off his jacket he immediately stepped into the kitchen where the shrill cry of a baby was emanating from. "Christ, you're filthy." The blond wrapped his hands around his one year old daughter and pulled her out of the highchair she'd been trapped in. "Shhh, it's okay Emma, Daddy's here now." He placed the child on his hip as he tried to wipe some of the crusted food and dirty off the girl's face.

Emma Cameron-Chase continued to wail as her father began his all too familiar 'hunt' for his wife of almost five years. "Sean?" He called as he made his way through their apartment. The five year old quickly appeared in the hallway, his dirty blond hair greasy and matted to the left side of his head. At the sight of his father, he immediately burst into tears and ran down the hall towards him.

"Daddy..." The young boy wrapped his arms around Chase's hips and buried his dirty face into the man's rumpled khaki dress pants. Juggling Emma in his arms, Chase reached down and pulled the boy closer to him in a tight embrace.

"Where's Claire?" The absence of his four year old daughter alarmed the surgeon. He began to walk forward again towards the three bedrooms at the back of the apartment. As he passed his two eldest children's joint room, he peeked inside and frowned when the girl was still no where to be seen. Skipping the nursery, he immediately plowed into the master bedroom and aimed himself directly towards the closed bathroom door. "Take you're sister." He turned and handed the baby to his son, who took the child and hugged her close to his chest.

"Allison?" The doctor placed his hand on the doorknob and pushed open the door. "Damnit! Not again." He was immediately on his knees at the far end of the bathroom where his wife sat huddled against the sink cabinet and the wall. Their oldest daughter was wrapped tightly in the blonde's arms and the first thing Chase did was pry the woman's arms apart to release the child. "Claire, are you okay?" The child stared wide eyed at her father, but remained silent. "Come here." He placed the girl into his arms and hugged her tightly, rubbing her back as she wrapped her skinny arms around his neck.

With his three children accounted for, Chase turned his attention on his wife. "Allison." His voice was low and threatening. The woman had her eyes closed and her head balanced in the corner of the cabinet and wall. The blond reached first for her face and pulled open her eyelids. It took but three seconds for him to conclude his wife was yet again hopped up on crystal meth.

Chase pulled his hand away and with more force than necessary, backhanded the woman across the cheek. This managed to break her from her chemically induced 'coma'. "I told you." He now had his hands on her shoulders and was holding her still against the wall behind her. "I fucking **told** you Allison!" He raised one arm temporarily as his daughter wormed her way from his side.

Cameron could vaguely make out the words drifting towards her. All she wanted to do was close her eyes and sleep off the after effects of her high. Except when she lolled her head forward, trying to do just that, her husband pulled her from the wall and slammed her back against it roughly. "Please." She groaned as stars appeared in her vision. She raised an arm and tried to push the man away from her but he only caught her wrist and yanked it down to her side.

"I told you." The man repeated again, this time much louder and with more intent. "I can't do this anymore, Allison. I won't do this anymore. If you want to fuck up you're life like this, fine. But I'm not going to let you do it in front of the kids." He was quickly to his feet and heading out of the bathroom into the bedroom. He yanked open one of his drawers and pulled out a handful of clothes and tossed them onto the bed. He'd had enough. He had given her more than enough chances to get clean and save their marriage.

"Sean, take this and pack up some clothes for yourself and your sisters." He pulled a small suitcase from the closet and handed it to Claire. Sean still had Emma in his arms so couldn't reach for it himself. In that moment, his son looked too mature for his five years. He had to get them out of there. It was one thing to let his wife kill herself before his own eyes. It was another to let her do it in front of their kids. "We're going to stay with your uncle Wilson for a while."

He watched as his children headed off into their room. When they were completely out of sight he placed his hands over his face and tried to compose himself. He had hoped and prayed that this day would never come, but now that it had, he found himself enraged that he'd waited so long. The first four years of their marriage had been amazing. They were, as he once predicted, so happy it was disgusting. They had two wonderful children, a beautiful apartment, successful careers.

A month after their third child was born he'd begun noticing the woman's irritable and erratic behavior. At first he'd written it off as post pardum depression. Her pregnancy with Emma had been unusually tough, and with multiple complications on the horizon, he'd insisted that she remain bed ridden for the last three months before their daughter was born. They had been overjoyed that the child had come into the word healthy, but the joy had been short lived due to the sudden changes in his wife.

It had taken nearly six months for him to catch her shooting up in their bathroom. She had been curled up in a ball besides the bathtub. At first he thought she had fallen and knocked herself out, but as he shook her that's when he noticed the rubber tourniquet pulled tight around her upper arm. When he'd pulled her motionless body into his arms, an empty syringe appeared on the tile floor. He'd known instantly what she'd done.

At first he'd been supportive; taking her to a discreet rehab center, helping her through the detox process, sitting with her through narcotics anonymous meetings. He thought things were going to be okay, that she would return to being the woman he had fallen in love with during their fellowship in diagnostics. That's when he had gotten the phone call.

*****

**To be continued...**


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